Three Endless Nights
by Hammi.the.Danger.Child
Summary: See through the eyes of Alphonse Elric as he suffers silently through three long nights, and listen to his mind crumble away into chaos.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1… The Easiest Night**

On the first night he was nervous.

"We'll come from this area here, and then we'll catch them by surprise here," Edward decided, pushing a white-gloved finger at each location he mentioned, denting the overlarge city map in his excitement. "There should only be those two guys, so we can take them out easy, especially if we use my new disguise…. Then when we beat them up real good, and then signal to that idiot colonel, and _then_ we go over to _this_ area…."

The rather small young man spoke through a mouthful of bread he shoved into his rather large mouth, his large golden eyes fiery and blazing. At the mention of his 'new disguise', he reached back behind him and tugged a small band out from his hair, letting the blonde main fan out around his shoulders, altering his appearance by a surprising amount and partially hiding his young face.

Alphonse Elric paid close attention to his brother's plans; he had heard them before and knew them by heart, but he always wanted to make sure he had everything down- and he always wanted to be sure that his erratic older brother had not made some sort of fatal mistake. Sure enough, he had to bring up several important points his brother had missed.

"How do we signal the colonel, brother?" he questioned after Edward's monologue had ended, concluded with another large mouthful of food and a dramatic swallow and belch.

"Smoke," the elder grinned deviously. "Because he's the _flame_ alchemist, everybody else will understand that it's for him and not misread it. Hawkeye is pretty good about that sort of thing, but Falman and the major will almost certainly get confused if we don't use smoke…."

"Good point," Al admitted, pleased that his brother had developed a sense of tactic. "But how are we supposed to get from this point to way over there in that amount of time?"

When all of the knots and wrinkles of the plan had been smoothed out, Edward rolled up the map and pulled his shirt and shoes off with a long yawn. "Got to sleep to get ready, then!" he decided firmly, hopping into the small hotel bed. "Night, Al."

"Goodnight, brother."

Al took the liberty of extinguishing the lights for his brother, who seemed to have fallen deep asleep even before the darkness fell. And then… the night truly took hold.

On that first night, Al was nervous. The prospect of a battle often did that to him. Even if it was just against two (most-likely harmless) enemies, recently his soul kept drifting out of him, searching for the body he had lost, and this armor body was left in a comatose state for two or three minutes at least. If it were to happen during the battle, Edward would be left to fight two soldiers at once. That would be no problem to the Fullmetal Alchemist… providing that the soldiers really were harmless. But a single flaw in the plan or unexpected turn of events could be fatal.

Alphonse sighed through his armor plating and let his head fall back to the wall behind him as he sat against it. Because every night was like this, every one of these nights that he was unable to sleep in this body. The endless nights would always bring him grief.

As if cued by the snoring of Edward on the bed, a thousand worries suddenly raced through his mind like the tide of an ocean that would never stop flowing, crashing waves upon his conscious and washing throughout his eardrums with deafening roars. The constant nagging of a million doubts that Alphonse was normally able to push to the back of his mind always flooded through him when night fell and he became alone.

Would the plan be successful? Would he and Edward ever return to their original bodies? Would his country ever see peace? Would he have to watch his loved ones fall screaming into the dust as the energy was consumed from their bodies?

Who would he know to die next?

Would the sun ever rise?

The questions plagued him until the sun dyed the sky pink as it announced it's soon arrival. Thoroughly shaken by the night of worry, Alphonse sprang to his feet at the first sign of that dawn. It was selfish of him to do so, but he shook his brother roughly.

"Time to wake up," he lied, desperate for that company.

The first night, he was nervous.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2… The Longest Night**

On the second night, he was frantic.

_Please wait in the waiting room down the hall, sir_. The words reverberated through Alphonse like a never-ending echo.

He sat in the uncomfortable white waiting room on two leather chairs of ripped and faded blue that made him queasy. Ah, and the second night fell over the world. With each ticking of the clock, Alphonse felt a nonexistent heart beat his chest bloody red. If he were to look down at his steel armor, he would see the blood from that frantic heartbeat, stained red across him. Earlier it had dripped thickly, staining the ground like it had stained his armor. Like it had stained Edward's torso. But now it was dry, he would have to clean it when Edward got better.

When Edward got better… but no… Alphonse was more pragmatic than that. It wasn't _when_ Edward got better… but _if_. If Alphonse had eyes, he would shut them tight and see behind them that flash of red that had splattered in front of his vision when he had seen the knife run through his brother's skin. He would hear the sickening squelch as the blade ripped from his brother and then a thud as it stabbed his torso a second time. Alphonse remembered the seven wretched blows that man had delivered to Edward before being thrown off of the young alchemist. In the process of getting his brother to the hospital, Alphonse had bloodied his entire front side.

The plan might have gone smoothly if not for the accursed spell that had hit him halfway through the battle. That spell where he fell to the ground as his soul was sucked back into his body, yearning to be reconnected with it. After a moment of struggle, Alphonse had been able to return to the armor, but by then he had been pinned by a second, muscled soldier and Edward was trying desperately to free him- while at the same time fighting off that unexpectedly skilled soldier. It was the distraction that caught Edward in the chest with a knife, and after the first blow, he was far too stunned to throw the guy off of him. It took six strikes for Alphonse to break through his restraints and overpower the giant soldier and another gash before he could crush Edward's attacker's head in his powerful, gloved hand.

Al remembered every detail in those seven stabs to his brother's chest.

First, that silence of the rest of the world. The only sound was the failing of Edward's heart and the tiny breaths he tried to gasp in as shock overcame him. The second was the choked cry that emanated from Edward's throat every time the blade was pulled out of his chest- dry and uncertain, it sounded more like a hiccup than a cry of pain. Finally was the wide golden eyes on that face that drained of color; even as that face became speckled with flecks of blood, those wide eyes didn't flinch but rather focused on something higher than the attacker's shoulder, as if seeing something in the gloomy sky above. All the way back to the hospital Edward had never glanced away from that point in the sky… at least until he fell back and passed out in Alphonse's arms.

And then, at the hospital, he was pulled back into a small room with too many surgeons and nurses alike, bustling around his bed frantically as Alphonse tried to get a glimpse of what they were doing. But then a tired-looking nurse had told him to go back to the waiting room, and he had obeyed.

Now the second endless night was upon him, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

How could he have overlooked the most obvious question the night before? All that worrying and nothing to show for it?

Al didn't realize it, but even if he had asked 'what if the soldiers are too strong' or 'what if my soul is rejected and you have to fight both of them off', Edward would have knocked it aside with a laugh and a confident reply of 'those are too many "what if's", little bro! It'll be fine!'.

As the night settled down over the world like the dust that was settling down inside Al's empty armor, he expected the usual doubts, fears, and guilt to surround him. Like every night, he braced himself for the inner torment. But nobody could brace themselves for what Alphonse's mind had in store for him. The guilt, the fear, the uncertainty… all of it was a hundred times stronger tonight, in that waiting room (so perfectly white and clean it begged to be ripped open with a river of crimson blood). Accompanying the expected anguish was fragmented flashes of rich, crimson blood, shining, silver knives, and wide, amber eyes. Alphonse shuddered under the weight of it and longed more than anything to sleep away the night, which had still only just begun.

Like a disease, like an attack, melancholy gripped the young man- not even a young man yet, still just a boy. Anger, exhaustion, and fear threatened to overcome him, they screamed at the boundaries of his mind a million miles away. They wanted out, they tried every means of escape possible; he could almost feel the feelings pushing against his teeth, scrabbling at his eyelids, pushing aside his brain in an attempt to flee through his ears… all of this he felt from that body a million miles away.

Always there was this dull sense of emptiness inside of Alphonse, an emptiness that had nothing to do with his hollow armor. It was tired and drugged and guilty, pulling his conscious down with the sun and rising in intensity with the moon and solitude of the stars. Unable to resist it's depression, Alphonse could only feel the pain of a thousand loved ones dying around him and wish he could sleep it away.

And tonight… tonight somebody really was dying, just down the hall. In fact, all around him people were dying; if he concentrated hard, Al imagined he could hear the crying of a husband who lost his beloved wife, of a wife who had lost her baby boy, of a baby boy who wanted more than anything to escape back into his womb.

The baby boy would grow up with a mother who did not want him, while he should have been born to the mourning woman. The mourning wife was alone without her baby, since his father had left her long ago, while she should have been married to the mourning husband instead of the man she had thought she could trust. All of this irony, wrapped tightly within white walls and emptiness and endless, endless night. And Edward was also dying, seven holes severed through his skin, which shone white and pallid. Alphonse imagined his eyes still open wide and staring at the sky in shock, as if wondering who could allow this misery to go on.

Alphonse looked up at the white ceiling and wondered in shock who could let this misery go on.

After all, in this hospital the only thing waiting was death. The death would shock the loved ones, who would go home and mourn for hours and days and weeks. And then they would sleep. And every morning they would wake up and feel a little better than the day before.

But if Edward died, Alphonse would go 'home' and mourn for hours and days and weeks, but would be unable to experience the sleep that healed most loved ones.

If Edward died, Alphonse would never recover.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Damn that clock that never stopped, it was taking away Edward's life from Alphonse. With every beaten rhythm Edward's heart would be one beat closer to stopping. Even if he did not die today, he could tomorrow, or in a week, or a year.

These thoughts, so round and vague, plagued Alphonse without stop, constantly leading into another subject like an author's story- which has lost its sense of subject long ago.

The guilt that Alphonse felt was so immense it's hard to describe. He couldn't describe it to himself, either. He just knew that he felt incredibly, immeasurably, redundantly guilty. The guilt and a thousand other black and purple emotions rolled around inside him, crushing his head, consuming his armor. When he felt like he would surely implode, somebody arrived that made his emotions clear like sunlight to a dense fog.

She shone like an angel, her blue eyes were bright and her blonde hair shining. When she put a hand on his armor, he felt like he knew her touch was soft, even if he could not feel it.

"Winry…" he managed to gasp in surprise, looking up and seeing her angelic form beside her. That's right… she was staying in Central temporarily, wasn't she.

"The… the hospital called me. They said that Ed is in critical condition! What happened?" Winry gasped in a rush, looking devastated and worried as she sat down beside Alphonse.

Alphonse looked at her for a moment, then found her purity too strong and looked away, down at the dried blood stained across his armor. It was a mistake. Winry followed Alphonse's gaze and panicked at the sight of the blood. "So… so much…." She whispered shakily. "H-how- s-so much… is this- this all E-E-Ed's?"

"I'm sorry," Alphonse whispered numbly. "I… it's all my fault. My soul was rejected in the middle of the battle, and when I came to, I was trapped and brother… brother lost his battle… because he was trying to get the other guy away from me, so he didn't pay enough attention and…."

"Al," Winry murmured after a moment. "What exactly happened… to him? Did… he get… shot or… something…?"

"A knife," Al replied, feeling treacherous as his voice cracked. "In the chest… seven- seven times…."

Winry didn't make a noise but Alphonse could sense her body shaking slightly with shock. When he glanced over at her, he saw that her face was bright red as she fought to remember how to breathe. Finally she spoke. "… your fault…."

"What?"

"It's not your fault," Winry repeated, louder this time. She seemed to have regained self control and looked rather fierce, something that Alphonse envied. "You couldn't help your soul getting rejected. Besides, Ed's not dead- he's not, he won't die. Just you wait- Ed's been through worse- this is probably nothing. He'll get irritated if we get worried over him."

"Right," Alphonse would have smiled if he had a body. Her fierce spirit was like his brother's, it made him feel more positive than he could ever feel alone. Winry and Edward were his lanterns in the dark abyss, and it was all he could do to keep himself from reaching out and grabbing Winry so that her light would never leave him.

"So what should we do while we're waiting?" It appeared Winry's way of dealing with worry was to just not think about it. Al wished he could do the same. But still, he couldn't help noticing as the night wore on that Winry's blue eyes seemed to be addicted to glances toward the clock. And throughout the entire night, her hands were clamped together, and she didn't yawn once, even though it was an endless night that lasted for several eternities.

But no matter how much Al hated that endless night, no matter how much he wished he could see the sunlight again, no matter how much he wanted to fast forward to when Edward was better, later, all Alphonse could do was wish that night had lasted longer.

That Edward's life had lasted longer.

Because the nurse that called their names gave them the worst news. As she said it, Alphonse seemed to anticipate the fate and he felt all of his systems shut down in shock and grief. What stood out in his mind was the word on her lips that his mind registered and confirmed inside of him.

_Dead_.

And with that word that sealed Edward's fate into a short sentence that didn't do all of his years of life justice, the second night ended.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3… The fastest night. **

On the third night, he was empty.

All of his systems seemed to have shut down permanently. His thinking was so fragmented he couldn't even focus on what little thoughts he could create.

As the moon rose yet again, he became aware of her standing beside him. And her face was red again. As he looked at her blankly, tears ran down her face. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she said something like, "….cry…."

"What?"

"I'm not supposed to cry," she repeated louder, as she cried a barrage of tears. "I'm not supposed to cry until he makes me cry of happiness! He promised!"

And with that, she began crying so hard that Alphonse felt a need to pull her close and hug her. But his systems had shut down. He had forgotten how to move.

Somehow, they had made it back to a hotel in Central, both in a daze. Now, it seemed, Winry's daze had broken. She could mourn for days and weeks and months now.

After a while, a long two hours that felt like a few short seconds suddenly, Winry cried herself out and fell asleep curled up on the floor. Al focused hard and forced himself to pick her up and put her under the covers of the small bed that Edward had been sleeping in just two nights ago.

In the back of his mind, Alphonse could still hear his brother snoring.

In the back of his mind, Alphonse could still see his brother's golden eyes staring at nothing.

In the back of his mind, Alphonse could still remember his brother lying lifeless in a stained hospital bed.

It was all over. The search for their bodies, the journey to save the country, the bond of brotherhood the two had shared. It was all over.

The night melancholy, so bitterly sad and morose it would have killed another person, barely touched Alphonse. He couldn't hardly feel the pain inside, only the emptiness. When Winry was sound asleep, he went out into the hall so that he could sit in the light and not mourn in the darkness.

In the hall, he looked both ways. Deserted. He sat down on the green carpet with his back against the golden wall. Golden eyes staring at nothing.

Winry could sleep now. She would mourn for days and weeks and months, maybe even years. Yet with every night of sleep like this, she would recover. But Alphonse slowly realized that he would never sleep again. How could he recover his body by himself? No, he would never be able to sleep again. And because of that, he would never, ever recover. Winry would mourn for weeks… Alphonse would mourn forever. And every night he knew that the pain would get worse and worse as his numbness wore off. And it would be so unbearable.

And the nights would be, every night would be, endless. Last night he had thought to himself that if Edward died, he would never recover. And never suddenly seemed like a lot of endless nights.

Alphonse shook his head softly at the very idea. It was unbearable. It was impossible. He could not live like this. With a shudder of determination, Alphonse reached up and slowly pulled the armored head off of it's armored shoulders. Inside he was empty.

He remembered golden eyes staring at nothing. _I hope you saw an afterlife there, brother_, he thought suddenly. _I hope I see you there… I hope I see you there with mom, and I hope we can exist happily together, all of us with perfect bodies that can sleep for hours._ With a soft cry of fear, Alphonse touched the blood seal with a gloved finger. Then, trembling with anxiety but too determined to stop there, he clenched his fist.

The guilt he had always felt, he suddenly summed it up into a very basic and simple sentence. _If I had never been born, the people I love, the people around me… they would have never had to suffer. _

With a snap, the blood seal broke in half.

On the third night, he died.

* * *

**-end**


	4. Author's Note

**Authors Note:**

**Ah, this story was so ridiculously easy and hard to write at the same time. I had a million alternate endings to choose from and only one of which I could actually use. It was ridiculous. **

**Basically, in this story it portrays that Alphonse feels extremely depressed a lot of the time. When he's alone, all he can do is think about how, if he were never born, he wouldn't have forced them on this quest to get his body back. Or, if he had just told Edward to not transmute their mother, the same fate could be avoided. **

**You might think that this kind of guilty thinking is a bit selfish on Al's part. After all, what happened, happened, and it's best to not wallow in your faults. But take into consideration these two points: First, Alphonse is an extremely sweet and considerate boy who always takes into account other peoples' feelings. If he thought he was hurting others' in any way, he would be more devastated by it than a normal, selfish person like you or I. Also, Al's been without sleep for a few years now. Sleep is the best source of healing for emotional wreckage. It's putting your mind at ease for a few hours. Imagine living without that oasis of peace- you would go **_**crazy**_**.**

**So basically I tried to get across in this that the only thing making Al continue to live was the hope that one day he could sleep again. But then when Edward died, he realized that he would never be able to get his body back without his brother's help. It was Edward's promise that gave him hope. So if Edward were to die, Alphonse would be stuck in an armored body forever.**

**Then came the most difficult part for me. Do I make Alphonse move on- despite his hopelessness- and resume the search of his body in the end (mind you I came up with some stunning lines if I were to make that the case, I'm rather sad to not be able to use them), or make him end his suffering by breaking the blood seal and therefore killing himself?**

**I chose him to kill himself because if he didn't, then my whole 'sleep heals people' point would be completely bull. Or… mostly bull, anyways. If Al can't sleep, he can't recover, he can't get over it, he can't move on. And he's a very practical and intelligent boy, so rather than letting himself wallow for the rest of his life, he decided to 'do everybody else a favor' and end his life.**

**Oh, Alphonse. If I were there, I would hug you and stay up every night with you so that you didn't have to be alone. I love you. A lot. **

**Please comment kindly, thanks, and have a nice day!**

**-Hammi **

**8:55 PM January 12, 2010**


End file.
